Ragna Rosenhardt (2)
No matter how insistently I pressed him, big brother Ragna's lips stayed sealed. Fine... if he didn't want to talk about it, we'd let it slide. Things would sort themselves out eventually. Still, one thing from our conversation nagged at me.
"That iron equipment the ogres were using—you looked into it properly, right?"
Ragna shook his head at my question.
"I know an investigation was underway, but I never heard the results. I left the unit when I became a priest, so my info dried up."
"Hmm..."
No matter how I turned it over in my mind, it was suspicious as hell. For any species' intelligence to evolve naturally, it takes time. Smart individuals survive, breed smarter offspring, and that repeats for dozens of generations. But these ogres had jumped straight from stone age to iron age. No way that happened organically. Someone was pulling strings behind the scenes. I had no clue what they were after, but my gut said this was just the tip of the iceberg.
As I mulled it over fruitlessly, Ragna spoke up.
"Anyway... how's military life treating you?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Pretty good, all things considered."
"Wanna give me the grand tour? You can show me around."
Ahh, so the battalion commander's worries came true after all.
Strictly speaking, I should refuse for the sake of the other knights and soldiers... but I glanced at Ragna's beaming face. He'd poke around on his own regardless of my say-so. Better to stick close and keep an eye on him, like the commander asked.
Wait a sec, though.
"You okay hanging here alone? Don't you need to move on to the next battalion?"
Priests visiting the base had to tour the entire legion over the weekend. Finish one battalion, head to the next.
"No worries. I got permission for solo action from the start."
"Special treatment 'cause you're royalty?"
"Nah, it's 'cause I have family in the unit."
"Me?"
He nodded.
"Yup. Doesn't matter if you're royal or not—if a priest's family is posted here, they let you go solo so you can spend time together."
"Makes sense. Alright, let's go. Where to first?"
"Your place to start."
The residence? Just maids and servants there, so no harm in showing him.
I led Ragna to the house. He burst out laughing the moment he saw it.
"They built you your own place just 'cause you're a girl."
"Yeah, pretty much."
"They stuck me in the regular knight barracks. The facilities gave me culture shock. But hey, that experience helped me adapt to priest life."
Inside, the maids and servants greeted us. The maids, being nobles themselves, seemed to recognize him but kept it cool—all except one.
"Oh my goodness, Prince Ragna!"
Sigh... Elina, seriously.
Her subordinates were holding it together, but the head maid was going full drama queen.
"Elina. Long time no see. You doing okay?"
"No, not really! How about you, Your Highness? What brings you here? And why are you in priest robes?!"
Ragna humored her every outburst. He'd known her forever as my little brother's maid—no big deal for him.
"I see... so that's why you became a priest..."
"Water under the bridge. Focus on now and the future. But 'not doing okay'? What happened?"
"Ugh, don't get me started. It all started when Her Highness got into that accident..."
"Hey, hey, hey!"
Despite my protests, Elina spilled everything—from the academy to army life. Every mishap while Ragna was away.
As her tale unfolded, pity crept into the way he looked at me.
"Hey, Arselia. 'Military life's great,' huh? And you got disciplined in under a week?"
"There were extenuating circumstances."
"Aigoo, you rascal."
"I-I didn't cause as much trouble as you!"
"Oh? What'd I do?"
"When you were 19? Scattering love letters to all the maids..."
"Hey, hey, hey!"
We dove into some deep sibling banter. Not the kind of stuff for an audience, but that's how it went. The other maids had fled (sans Elina), and the servants were either squeezing their eyes shut or fighting back laughs.
Finally, the scarring conversation wrapped up. Ragna sighed, glanced around the house—my room, kitchen, the usual spots—then gestured to head out.
"Already?"
"I figured you'd trash the place living solo, but with maids and servants? Nothing to see."
"I'm not a kid—what, you were worried about that?"
"You ever hand-washed your own laundry?"
Of course... in my past life. Not this one, though. Back then, washers, detergents, softeners—push a button. Here? Soap up by hand, beat with a paddle. Exhausting. So delegate if you can. Born royal—no need to slum it.
Anyway, we left the house and wandered the base. At the mess hall...
"How's the chow here? Golden Swan Legion had soldiers rotating kitchen duty—barely edible."
"Same deal. That's why I tasked the servants with mess hall improvement project."
"Damn, servants make life easy."
...that kind of talk. At the stables...
"This is my warhorse, Thunderer."
"...Horns? Is that a unicorn?"
"Yeah. Kinda happened that way."
"Huh."
Thunderer's reaction was priceless, though. She scowled and snorted when I got close to Ragna, sniffing us both alternately. Then nodded like she got it and mellowed out.
This psycho unicorn was wary of my brother. Once she clocked we were blood, she relaxed. She wasn't like this before the horn grew—personality shift, maybe. I wasn't planning to date anytime soon, but with all these male soldiers in army life... her reactions could be a headache.
We hit a bunch of spots, passing the training grounds.
"Here! Pass!"
"Cut it off! Cut it off!"
A heated game of kickball was underway. This world's soccer equivalent—kick the ball into zones, but with different rules.
"Young blood's the best. Kicking it like pros."
Ragna chuckled at the shirtless soldiers dashing about. He was barely 28 himself—rich coming from him.
"Arselia."
"Yeah?"
"Just checking."
"Mhm."
"You seeing anyone?"
Out of nowhere.
"Nope."
"No one you like?"
"Why the sudden interrogation?"
"You're surrounded by guys—curious if any sparks flew."
I just shook my head. He looked semi-serious.
"I trust you won't, but guys? Vet 'em carefully."
"I know."
"Know what? You've got zero dating experience."
I didn't need experience. Past life as a guy—I knew the fakes from the real deals.
"If you do, make it real love. Don't drag it out and end up with some arranged marriage from Mom and Dad."
"Got it."
I wanted this topic dead. Felt like holiday nagging about wedding bells.
Then the game wrapped—soldiers swarmed up. Spotting me, they scrambled for shirts or covered chests and bolted. One in particular—3rd Squad Leader—locked eyes, flinched. He glanced between us, threw on a top, and approached.
Heat rolled off him as he neared, energy still buzzing from the game. But he snapped a crisp salute to Ragna.
"For Rosenhardt. Silver Eagle Corps, 1st Battalion, 3rd Company, 3rd Squad Leader, Junior Knight Leonid Balheim. An honor to meet you, Prince Ragna."
"No need to be so stiff."
"I couldn't possibly."
Ragna eyed me, then him.
"3rd Squad Leader—you're Arselia's direct superior, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Walk with me a bit?"
"...Understood."
"Arselia, head back to the house."
Ragna slung an arm over Leonid's shoulder. They vanished into the distance.